Chapter Ten
A few days later, Clara had an idea of how this whole gig was going down. She’d amassed a healthy spreadsheet of potential suitors, organized by categories like career, personal history, social media presence, past scandals and drama, political affiliations, and then an internal rating scale devised by Clara that accounted for both her personal preference and what she imagined would be Adrien’s.
The spreadsheet was massive, and the result of too many hours of work. But Adrien’s first deposit showed up in her bank account—“the seed fund,” he’d said—and suddenly the work felt much more important. If only the gig could last forever. Then she might have a real shot at getting out of debt.
The temporary release of the money claws was a welcome change. She splurged at the grocery store that morning, and called off a catering shift so she could spend more time hunting for princesses. Between music playlists, hummus platters, and her laptop, she was a woman on a mission.
By Monday afternoon, her first list of blind dates was ready for Adrien. His preference was for dinner dates, with multiple dates in a day only in times of extreme necessity or urgency. His first dates were for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday that week. She sent over the list of days, times, names, and executive summaries with a triumphant click.
Adrien called moments later. She answered the phone with a grin. “Hello?”
“This is fantastic.” His deep voice soothed her from across the city. Butterflies swarmed her belly. “I had no idea this could be so thorough.”
“I’m a scientist. I use methodologies.” She admired the spreadsheet on her laptop as they talked about it, like a proud mother. “Do you like the color coding?”
“Absolutely.” He whistled. “And you left Friday open for us, right?”
“Just like you asked.” The way he’d said for us made her blush. She bit back a smile. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t forget your most important date of the week.”
“Good. How does it feel to be dating a known womanizer?”
She laughed. “Excellent, especially since I’m in control of the womanizing.”
They chatted for a little longer before Adrien had to run to a meeting. She continued her work, glowing from the high of their conversation. Dating a womanizer. It was hilarious, and strange, and made a funny feeling simmer inside her. Somewhere between Friday night and now, they’d started dating. There was a title to it. One that Adrien coined himself.
They’d been in constant contact, and now, on Monday evening, it marked only a full day out of each other’s presence. Though they were scheduled for Friday, she was already dying to see him again. More dangerous by the day.
Rationalizing helped. She figured that if she were to have a better chance at success and meeting the deadline, she needed to know as much as possible about Adrien. Which would include, feasibly, a detailed knowledge of his personality, his likes, his dislikes, sexual preferences. Otherwise, she might pair him incorrectly, and he’d be doomed to marry the archduchess. Maybe, if she learned enough about him, she could write an algorithm to help make more accurate matches.
So that meant sleeping with him was for the best. She nodded at her computer, typing more furiously as she Googled a new lead. Definitely had to continue sleeping with him, even though, only days ago, not sleeping with him seemed the wisest course of action. But hey, things change when you start dating a prince.
Butterflies erupted in her belly again and she reached for a pita chip from the bag beside her. Dating a prince was strange enough, but their inevitable end was a curious aspect to the situation, like starting a story after reading the last line of the book first.
And what would it be like to hear about all his dates? Maybe he wouldn’t tell her. Or maybe he’d be slowly falling in love with a woman as they continued their dead-end affair. She shivered. Her life had taken a strange turn since last week, and she wasn’t entirely sure where this phase would spit her out at the end. The only way was forward, by doing what felt right.
And to her, doing Adrien felt extremely right.
***
Later that night, she’d dozed off in the middle of her research. A phone call startled her awake. Adrien.
She snatched it up. “Hello?” She blinked against the low light of the room, struggling to make sense of the clock on the opposite wall. 10:30 p.m.
“Good evening. How are you?”
“Fine.” She yawned. “Just wrapping up some more research.”
“Don’t burn yourself out.” He tutted through the phone. “I pay handsomely, but that doesn’t mean you need to become a zombie.”
“I just want to do a good job,” she said, picking at the couch. “You have a time limit. It makes me nervous.”
“You and me both. Which brings me to why I called.”
“Yeah?”
“The girl tonight was a dud.”
“Oh.” She frowned, pulling open the spreadsheet. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll make a note of it on my end.”
“Good.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing much. She was terribly bland, and already talking about matching his-and-her nightgowns.”
“Jesus. OK, I’ll have to tweak my screening.”
“Maybe you could come show me what you’re doing.” Adrien’s voice took on a sultry lilt. “I’d like to see behind the scenes. Check out the work of my mad scientist.”
She grinned, tingles running up and down her spine. “You want to fraternize with the mad scientist?”
“Desperately.” His voice came out as a low growl.
“Are you gonna send Mr. Pike?”
“I already did. He’ll be there in ten.”
She couldn’t fight the grin. “Let me get my things around then. I’ll see you soon.”